


bits and pieces

by books_and_spite



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket, Hamilton - Miranda, The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Blind Character, Boyfriends, Clubbing, Crushes, Cutesy, Drabble Collection, Drama, Exes, F/F, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, George Washington is a Dad, Getting Together, High School, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Jealousy, Kissing, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Magic, Making Out, Oblivious, One Shot Collection, Outing, Romance, Tension, Tumblr Prompt, esme squalor is an outrageous flirt, vfd, write-it-motherfuckers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26338270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/books_and_spite/pseuds/books_and_spite
Summary: a collection of oneshots/drabbles inspired by prompts fromwrite-it-motherfuckerson tumblr!
Relationships: Aaron Burr & James Madison, Aaron Burr/Alexander Hamilton (background), Aaron Burr/Thomas Jefferson, Agatha/Tedros (The School for Good and Evil), Alexander Hamilton & James Madison, Alexander Hamilton & Thomas Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton/James Madison, Beatrice Baudelaire/The Duchess of Winnipeg (Side), Georgina Orwell/Jacquelyn Scieszka, Leonora Lesso & August Sader & Clarissa Dovey, Nicola/Sophie (The School for Good and Evil), Olivia Caliban/Esmé Squalor, Thomas Jefferson & James Madison, Thomas Jefferson/James Madison
Kudos: 22





	1. why are you like this

Prompt:

**Person A:** “Do you really hate me so much?!”

 **Person B:** “Hate you? Oh darling… I don’t care enough about you to _hate_ you.”

* * *

“Pathetic,” comes the drawl from across the bar. “Really, when will you learn not to interfere with better people’s matters, little girl?”

Alright. _Alright_. Normally Olivia would be more forgiving than this, but there is _something_ about Esmé Squalor that just really, really pisses her off. 

Is it the glares that she’s been sending Olivia for months now? Is it the ostentatious fashion that she insists on wearing? Or is it how she seems to look down on anyone other than Rosalind Scieszka?

 _Rosalind, Rosalind, Rosalind,_ her heart chants. 

_Stop it, you can think about your stupid crush and why you hate Esmé later,_ she thinks, slightly giddily. The alcohol must be getting to her. But the woman herself is coming over to Olivia’s side now, draped in a scarlet dress that can barely be classified as clothing at all, shining with gold and jewels, lipstick and winged eyeliner. 

“So, the librarian comes out to play,” she sing-songs, raising her glass in a mock salute.

“Fuck _off,”_ Olivia bites. “I am trying to have a good time.”

“Oh, really?” Esmé laughs, loudly and obnoxiously and _god what fucking perfume is that._ “I don’t see that.”

And with that she dumps her glass of wine right into Olivia’s lap. “Oops.” 

_Don’t get mad, get even, don’t get mad, get even, Rosalind would be proud, get even,_ Olivia tells herself, even as she clenches her fists so hard it hurts and bares her teeth before she knows it.

“Fiery, aren’t we?” Esmé says, eyeing her mockingly.

“Do you really hate me so much?!” Olivia bursts out before she can think better.

“Hate you? Oh darling… I don’t care enough about you to _hate_ you,” Esmé yawns. And then she leans forward, so close to Olivia that she can smell the sickeningly sweet scent of her breath.

“But you have something I _want,”_ she hisses. 

And Olivia can’t help but laugh. “Me? What do _I_ have? Or are you just jealous of my sparkling personality?” 

Esmé locks eyes with her, deadly serious, and Olivia freezes. 

The other woman takes a long sip of what’s remaining in her glass, not breaking eye contact all the while.

“Rosalind Natalia Scieszka,” she finally says. “That’s what you have.”

Oh. _Oh._ So this is what Esmé wants? Rosalind? Beautiful, untouchable, perfect Rosalind? Who has never given Olivia more than a smile? 

Despite the atmosphere Olivia laughs again, uncontrollably, and says, “She barely looks at me, even if I want more than that-”

“You have her friendship, at least,” Esmé sulks, seeming like a child. “But I’ll find a way. Somehow.”

“She’s a person,” Olivia argues. You’re not allowed to just take people. 

“So?” Esmé breathes.

She really is drunk. Or maybe this is just how she is.

Olivia glares at her. “Don’t be a _bitch,_ ” she starts.

“I get what I want, Olivia fucking Caliban,” Esmé growls lowly, giving her a dark look over her empty wine glass. Those eyes. They’re striking and hauntingly hateful and bitter.

“Just you wait.”

Olivia is about to respond when a voice cuts her off. The club’s DJ, for lack of a better term, is speaking into his microphone. It’s Monty Montgomery.

“And for our next song, we have a pretty little love song... dedicated to our newest couple!” He roars happily. “Everyone give it up for-”

“ _Us,_ ” another voice interrupts. And that voice is too familiar, not that voice, it can’t be- 

Esmé drops her glass across the table as she stares.

It’s Beatrice Baudelaire. Beatrice Baudelaire, the drama girl, the manipulator- and she has one arm slung over Rosalind Scieszka’s shoulders.

Rosalind.

Olivia has spent the past few months memorizing her face, her soft brown curls that always fall just right, her piercing dark eyes, high cheekbones- red lips, lips that Olivia has always dreamed of kissing.

 _“Fuck,”_ she whispers.

The new couple kiss to loud applause, and Rosalind is smiling wider than ever before, red lipstick marks on her teeth as she grins and kisses Beatrice again.

Esmé and Olivia stare at each other.

“Come on,” Esmé orders abruptly, and pulls Olivia up. 

“What-?”

“I have a feeling we’ll need each other’s company tonight,” she mutters lowly, and drags Olivia towards the entrance.

Olivia manages to down the last of her drink before they go.

They make it to the end of some dark alley before they stop, gasping for breath after running from the club, where Rosalind and Beatrice are dancing and kissing and being in love.

And then Esmé grabs Olivia by the collar and kisses her like there’s no tomorrow, desperately, hungrily, and Olivia kisses back because what else is there to do?

It’s a nice kiss, really, and Olivia thinks, _I could get used to this._

“If I can’t have her-” Esmé starts as they break away.

Olivia kisses her again, just to shut her up, because she doesn’t want to know what Esmé was going to say, she just wants to forget, and honestly she doesn’t care that this is Esmé Squalor she has to do _something._

 _“Fuck you,”_ she breathes against Esmé’s lips.

And that’s that, because the rest is a blur of doing things she really shouldn’t, and by the time she wakes up in Esmé’s bed she is fairly sure there is no going back from this. Ever. It will not be just one time, with Esmé. She knows that like she knows that she is breathing.

Does she mind?

(She doesn’t know.)


	2. how the fuck do you flirt so much?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beatrice and esmé have a conversation about just how much of an outrageous flirt esmé is.

Prompt:

**Person A:** “You really need to stop flirting with every woman you see.”

**Person B:** “I don’t just flirt with every woman I see…. I flirt with every man too.”

* * *

“How many have you propositioned tonight?” Beatrice asks, uncomfortably holding her martini glass. Esmé laughs, taking a sip from her own drink- something bright pink and fizzy that’s probably In today. There are lipstick stains on her cheek 

“It’s not propositioning, darling,” she drawls. “I’m simply irresistible. And is that really how you hold your glass?”

She reaches out and presses Beatrice’s hand into the right position. “There. Much better.”

“Yes, thank you, I’m eternally grateful, now answer my question,” Beatrice presses, leaning forward in anticipation. “I have a bet, you know.”

“Well, it would be terribly impolite to keep you waiting,” Esmé says. “Six.”

Beatrice splutters, choking on her drink. “ _Six?_ For _fuck’s_ sake, Esmé, it’s been one and a half hours!” 

“So?” the other girl asks, unbothered.

“You really need to stop flirting with every woman you see,” Beatrice mutters.

Esmé laughs again, louder. “I don’t just flirt with every woman I see…. I flirt with every man too.”

“Utterly shameless about it, aren’t you?” Beatrice sighs.

Esmé grins. “Did you expect anything else?”


	3. making friends with people you hex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> august sader meets (leonora) lesso and clarissa dovey. it's not a great first meeting, but hey, they all come out uninjured.

Prompt:

**Person A:** “Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?!”

**Person B:** “….Someone you should fear.”

* * *

He is sick of it, sick of people looking down on him just because he’s blind, sick of all the whispering and taunting and insults.

August Sader just wants to be normal. 

Which is why the next time the #1 Never makes a disparaging comment at him, he lashes out. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?!” He growls. He might be blind but he has magic on his side and oh, he is going to use it.

His finger starts to spark as she replies.

“Someone you should fear,” Lesso drawls. “Sader, dearest, you haven’t forgotten who I am, have you? Or are you possessed? You usually aren’t very good at standing up for yourself.” 

“Lesso, be nice,” another voice admonishes. Clarissa Dovey. The #1 Ever. Lesso’s best friend. August’s classmate. They’ve spoken exactly twice. 

“Why should I? I’m a Never, sweetheart,” Lesso replies, sounding bored.

August glares in Lesso’s direction and shoots a spell at her, one of his best hexes. Her mouth is sealed shut as the emerald spark hits her. She curses, or means to, but it comes out as angry humming instead.

_Serves her right._

“August,” Clarissa says, _“stop it.”_

“Give me a reason to.”

“No need for that,” Lesso interjects, apparently having freed herself from the hex. Pity. He could have done without hearing her voice. He hadn’t expected the hex to last long, but _still._

He turns to leave before she speaks again. “Sader. Wait.”

He doesn’t stop walking.

She sighs, behind him. “Sader. That was _impressive.”_

He stops.

Lesso is smirking, he’s sure of that. “So easy to buy males’ attention. But it was high-level magic, I won’t deny that.”

She eyes him. “Allies, then?”

August turns back to her. “A little out of character for you.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” she deadpans. “You can choose which one.”

“Allies,” August says, slightly confused. _Go with the flow._

Lesso extends a hand to him. He takes it. Her hands are freezing cold. 

“Well, I suppose we have another friend now,” Clarissa comments. 

“How nice,” Lesso replies.

“What just happened?” August asks.

“You’ve made two new friends,” Clarissa says warmly.

He considers this for a second. “That _is_ nice.”


	4. of course she likes you, idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> agatha kind of sets up nicola and sophie, just to get sophie to stop being annoying. it works.

Prompt:

**Person A:** “Please tell _ **(Person C)**_ to stop antagonising the other residents. Someone is going to end up killing them if they continue like this.”

**Person B:** “Why would I have _any_ control over how they behave?”

**Person A:** “Last week they literally abandoned an important noble mid conversation because you smiled at them briefly from across the room.”

* * *

Honestly. Does Sophie ever stop?

This is the third Ever leader she’s offended with comments on their appearance in the past two hours. Agatha just wants her wedding day to be peaceful, thank you very much. And maybe to sneak away with Tedros.

But she can’t do that if she has to keep calming her new peers down.

Time to proceed with drastic measures, she supposes.

The other girl is standing by the drinks table, holding a glass of punch and a sandwich. She turns her head as Agatha approaches. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, Nicola,” Agatha responds, then gets straight to the point. “Please tellSophieto stop antagonizing the others. Someone is going to end up killing her if she continues like this. I might kill her, actually.”

Nicola raises an eyebrow and drains her glass. “Why would I have _any_ control over how she behaves?”

Agatha snorts in a very unladylike manner. “Last week she literally abandoned an important noble mid conversation because you smiled at her briefly from across the room.”

Nicola turns bright red all of a sudden. “That wasn’t- I-”

“She’s infatuated with you,” Agatha points out. “Even I can see that.”

Nicola sputters out more excuses. “I’m the School Master- it’s not-”

“Good, she has a track record of dating School Masters, now please go before she ruins my wedding reception even more,” Agatha deadpans. 

Nicola stares, gaping. Agatha gives her a helpful shove in Sophie’s direction. She stumbles away, and Sophie turns, beaming at the sight of Nicola.

“Hello, darling!” She exclaims.

“You like me?” Nicola asks at the same time.

Sophie laughs unashamedly. “Of course, darling.”

“I-” Nicola starts.

Tedros comes up behind Agatha, pressing a kiss to her hair. “How’s my wife doing?” He asks jovially.

“It finally happened,” Agatha replies, and jerks her head in Sophie and Nicola’s direction.

“About time,” Tedros comments.

“And about time we got out of here, I think,” Agatha murmurs.

Tedros grins and pulls her away.

(About half an hour later, Sophie and Nicola stumble into the same broom closet they’re using.)

(They agree to never mention it. Ever.)

(Of course everyone finds out. At least it’s overshadowed by the fact that Sophie and Nicola are finally going out.)


	5. never date hypnotists, it'll come back to haunt you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> georgina orwell walks into a firefighting meeting. jacquelyn scieszka just wants to go home.

Prompt:

 **Person A:** “And why should we trust _you_ of all people?”

 **Person B:** “Because I’m the one who made sure there were no casualties that day…. or hasn’t your precious leader told you?”

* * *

No one expected Georgina Orwell, of all people, to show up at the rebuilt Snicket mansion. The unofficial firefighter headquarters. 

But she did anyway.

She let herself be handcuffed, let herself be taken to the room where the younger members were all gathered. 

And that’s where Jacquelyn Scieszka finds herself, in a room with her best friends and her ex who looks far too amused for anything good to happen. 

_Well isn’t this just great,_ Jacquelyn thinks bitterly. 

Georgina looks at her and smirks, that infuriating little smirk of hers that has never failed to irritate Jacquelyn. She leans against the wall, languidly, and _damn it_ she knows full well how Jacquelyn will hate her doing that-

 _Fuck you_ , Jacquelyn wants to say, but Beatrice is already talking. 

“G. I don’t suppose you want to join us, do you?”

Several people snort. 

“Leave the firestarters? Georgina Orwell?” Frank Denouement says outright. 

“Yes, actually,” the hypnotist drawls.

The room is silent. 

(What the actual _fuck_ is happening?)

And then it erupts into a cacophony of voices, frantic whispering and discussions and arguments; and Georgina, still smiling, is at the center of it all.

Jacquelyn doesn’t involve herself in the mess. She makes her way over to the cause of it.

“Hello, Jacquelyn, darling,” Georgina greets, still so _fucking_ casual that Jacquelyn starts to seriously consider if it would be too dramatic to try and rip her throat out with her bare hands.

“Georgina,” she grits out. “Why are you here?”

Georgina’s smile sharpens, till it’s not really a smile anymore- it’s a wolf baring teeth, hungry for blood and revenge. “I’m here because somebody tried to _hurt_ me. And I have very little tolerance for people who do that.”

Her voice is smooth and calm, but Jacquelyn spent years learning every twist and turn of this woman. She can tell that Georgina is _beyond_ angry, that there is rage boiling beneath her cool exterior, and she is reminded of the days when they were in love, when it was passion instead of hatred in her eyes.

But she isn’t here to think about what could have been. 

(She is not here to rekindle something that will kill her again and again and again, because Georgina can and will break her heart in the blink of an eye, and Jacquelyn isn’t that desperate.)

(Yet.)

“So you’ve not turned good, then.” The room is starting to quiet.

“Of course not,” Georgina says. “I could never be as _good_ as _you._ ”

Her wolf smile grows ever wider.

Jacquelyn really, really wants to punch her in the face, or kiss her, but both courses of action would be equally stupid. “What happened?”

The wolf smile vanishes, replaced with a wolf’s snarl. 

_“Olaf,”_ Georgina says, voice dripping venom, face twisted in anger and distaste. 

If Georgina Orwell herself is showing some form of true emotion then whatever happened must have been _bad._

Jacquelyn waits. When Georgina shows emotion she _talks._

“He,” she says eventually, “tried to drown me. And very nearly succeeded. Which was understandably traumatic, and also gave me all the reason I need to do this.” Clipped tone. Narrowed eyes. Oh, Olaf is dead.

But wait. “Is he not engaged to Kit Snicket?”

Georgina shrugs, shrugging away her anger, it seems, with it. “Are you really surprised? I hear he’s had multiple trysts. I would feel sorry for the Snicket girl if she wasn’t so uninteresting.”

“Well then,” Jacquelyn replies, “it’s a _pleasure_ doing business with you.” She smiles back, almost without realising.

Georgina looks amused yet again.

Why do all of their meetings end up like this?

Across the room, Beatrice clears her throat. The room collectively stops talking.

“And why should we trust _you_ of all people?” She asks bluntly.

Georgina raises an eyebrow. “Because I’m the one who made sure there were no casualties that day…. or hasn’t your precious leader told you?”

Okay. Jacquelyn doesn’t know what she’s referring to, seeing as nothing that’s happened in the past few weeks has resulted in casualties-

At least three people start muttering curses under their breath, the Snicket siblings start conferring in German, and Jacquelyn _freezes._

“You mean. The day of the gunfight?” She asks, carefully, and presses a hand to her side where a bullet grazed it.

“Yes, that day,” Georgina says impatiently.

Rewind.

Jacquelyn remembers meeting with the other firefighters, their (official, because everyone knows that Beatrice leads them) leader Laurence talking about holding peace talks with the firestarters. _Bring weapons,_ he had said, and they had listened.

When they reached the meeting place he fired. He’d said _I saw movement._

And then Jacquelyn hadn’t had any more time to think, because it had already devolved into a battle for survival.

What else does she remember?

She remembers brushing past Georgina, being grabbed by the shoulders, looking into dark eyes, and someone whispering _drop your weapon and run,_ and she had done it, and everything was a blur after that.

They had gone back to headquarters. They’d tended to their wounds and they had forgotten the whispering voice-

“You _hypnotized_ us,” she breathes.

“Would you rather be dead?” Georgina says archly. 

“Why?” Jacques Snicket asks.

Georgina sighs exaggeratedly. “Why not? And why not fuck with your idiotic excuse for a leader?”

“Fair,” Beatrice mutters. “So- you’re joining us?”

“I’m not joining you. I’m just not on the other side. And I might help you, on occasion,” the hypnotist explains, slowly and patronizingly, like they are children. 

“What’s the catch?” That’s Lemony Snicket, and of course he would ask that.

Georgina’s eyes darken and she shifts back into her wolf smile, from her amused facade. “Two conditions. First. I want Olaf to _burn.”_

Kit Snicket glares heatedly at Georgina. _“No.”_

“He really isn’t a good boyfriend, you know,” Georgina points out. “He’s been sleeping with Esmé Squalor for a long time now. And Ernest Denouement. And myself, until recently.”

“He _wouldn’t-”  
_

“He would,” Beatrice and Lemony say at the same time. “Accepted,” Beatrice continues.

“Beatrice!” Kit protests. 

“I’m not going to pretend to like him any _more_ , Kit!” Beatrice snarls. “G. Next condition.”

“I get a clean slate. You don’t bother me. And I want this offer for Esmé Squalor as well,” Georgina replies.

_Esmé?_

(What the fuck, what the fuck, what is going _on-_ )

(Why is she jealous?)

(She’s _not_ jealous. Okay. She is.)

People exchange looks around her. Finally, Beatrice decides, “Done.”

“Well then, would anyone mind taking these off?” Georgina holds up her hands, handcuffs dangling from her wrists. Jacques is the one with the key, and he unlocks them with a murmured apology.

Georgina inclines her head, and says, “Jacquelyn, dear, you know how to contact me.”

And then she walks out.

Everyone is staring at Jacquelyn. 

“Fuck you!” She calls through the open door, and Georgina’s soft laughter echoes back to her. 

“...explain?” Beatrice requests.

“It involves dating,” Jacquelyn offers.

She really needs more coffee. Or alcohol. Or both.


	6. annoyances and worried boyfriends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thomas jefferson is annoyed. james madison is tired. there's fluff involved.

Prompt:

 **Person A:** “….Why are you smiling like that?”

 **Person B:** “Because it’s pissing them off.”

* * *

A paper airplane glances off Thomas’ desk. James’ boyfriend looks down at it, doesn’t bother picking it up, and grins like nothing has happened.

“...Why are you smiling like that?” James asks. 

“Because it’s pissing them off,” Thomas responds, smiling ever wider. Across the room, Hamilton and Laurens glare back. Laurens is folding something. Perhaps another paper airplane. _Children._

“Y’all are so childish. What is this even about?” James sighs.

“He insulted you,” Thomas protests. “He _always_ insults you.”

“I’m not your damsel in distress,” James points out. “I can take care of-” He breaks off into a coughing fit halfway through his sentence, choking on air.

Thomas pats him on the back worriedly. Hamilton mutters something to Laurens, and they both snicker.

“I’m fine, for _fuck’s_ sake,” James snaps, and throws the middle finger towards Hamilton and Laurens. They don’t stop laughing at him. “Look. If you keep on reacting like this whenever they poke fun at me, they’ll just keep on doing it. Keep your cool and stop annoying me.”

“But it’s _you,”_ Thomas says, like it means something. No one talks about James like that. No one but Thomas. 

He can’t help but smile as he nudges Thomas, who’s looking for something in his bag. “Hey. I’ll be fine.”

“I know, it’s just-”

Thomas waves his hands in the air. “I care about you, Jemmy.” He makes a small triumphant noise as he pulls a bottle of water from his bag. 

“I know you do, but please. Just ignore them,” James says, taking a sip of water from the bottle that has been deposited on his table. “Thanks, by the way. I didn’t bring my bottle.”

“You always forget,” Thomas shrugs. “I worry.”

“That’s cute,” James says, and kisses him on the cheek.

“We’re cute,” Thomas replies, and slings his arm around James’ shoulder. He’s smiling naturally now, the smile that belongs on his face, and kisses James again.


	7. feelings are hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two people with mutual crushes dance around each other.  
> [alternate title: Why Are You Like This You Idiotic Gay Babies]  
> [i did, in fact, just call the founding fathers of america idiotic gay babies.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just finished my exams and am Happy so you don't get the sad coda

Prompt:

 **Person A:** “I have something to tell you.”

 **Person B:** “Oooh~ Are you about to profess your _undying_ love for me?”

 **Person A:** “Yes, I am.”

 **Person B:** “…..What?”

* * *

There are two things you should know.

Number one: Thomas Jefferson has a crush on James Madison. 

Everyone knows that. It’s an accepted fact at Princeton. Thomas is in love with his best friend. The world moves on, because that’s never going to change. 

The thing is, there is exactly one person who doesn’t know. And he’s kind of the one person who most definitely _should_ know about it.

But James Madison is completely oblivious. (Of course he is. It wouldn’t be much of a story otherwise. Because-)

Number two: James Madison also has a crush on Thomas Jefferson.

Absolutely no one (barring one person) knows that. James is very good at keeping secrets, especially when they concern feelings. But the crush isn’t going to go away.

And the thing is, he’s going to tell Thomas today.

* * *

Thomas is sprawled over his bed in their shared dorm room when James opens the door. James. His best friend, his crush, his better half. Yes, he’s dramatic. But James is literally an angel.

James smiles at him and Thomas feels some part of his soul leave his body. He’s so gay. Why is he so gay. Why is he in love with James, he doesn’t deserve someone that good-

Of course, he doesn’t say any of that. James still doesn’t know. Thomas isn’t planning on telling him anytime soon. 

But then James is walking in and Thomas is sitting up to greet him. “Hey, Jemmy.”

“Hi,” James says, running a hand through tousled brown hair and sitting down on his bed. “Look. Thomas. I have something to tell you.” He looks nervous, brows furrowed, hands twisting nervously in his pockets. And that makes Thomas nervous too. 

Thomas can’t help but crack an inappropriate joke in reflex. It’s what he does in awkward situations. James just sighs whenever he does it. “Ooh- Are you about to profess your _undying_ love for me?”

Then he slaps his hand over his mouth. 

Fuck. _Fuck._ Why does he say things like this? It just reminds him more of how very in love with James he is, and James doesn’t need that in his life, he doesn’t need Thomas dragging him down.

James just folds his hands on his lap, this time. No sigh. He pauses before replying, biting his lip. “Yes, I am.”

And time stops. 

“...what?”

Thomas stares at James, whom he has been in love with for the last six years, who has just said that he loves Thomas.

James buries his face in his hands, and says, “Fuck.” And then he jumps to his feet and bolts.

“James, _wait-”_ Thomas gets up and runs after him. He has to find James, they have to talk about this, he has to _tell_ him-

Instead, he runs straight into Angelica Schuyler. Angelica stumbles back, winded, before regaining her bearings and jabbing at Thomas with a finger. “What the _hell,_ Jefferson?”

“I’m sorry, Angelica, _I have to go-”_ He tries to dart away.

Angelica grips his wrist tight before Thomas can go after James. “I don’t fucking think so, Thomas. What’s going on?”

“Angelica, _please,”_ Thomas begs. “I need to find James. Please.”

She narrows her eyes at him, eyeing him suspiciously. “You clearly have something on your mind, Thomas. Slow down. You’re not in the right state of mind to talk to him.”

“I _am!”_ Thomas insists desperately.

“You’re not. Look. Whatever this is, it can wait,” Angelica says firmly, pulling him away by the wrist. Thomas lets out a long string of curses, but Angelica’s grip stays tight until she practically flings him into her dorm room. 

Eliza Schuyler looks up from her book. “Thomas?”

“We are having a Talk,” Angelica declares. 

Eliza puts her book down and tilts her head at Thomas, a slight frown playing on her lips. “Is this about James?”

Thomas sits down heavily on Angelica’s chair as Angelica goes to sit beside her sister. “Yeah,” he says, and suddenly he can’t seem to stop talking, even though James literally only said three words to him. “James wanted to tell me something and I made a joke about confessing his undying love and then he said he _was_ confessing his undying love and then he _ran_ and I need to go find him because I _love_ him and I don’t want to _hurt_ him-” 

Eliza raises a hand. “Slower. Calm down, Thomas. He won’t disappear.”

Thomas takes a deep breath and enunciates clearly, “James said he loves me.” He laughs once. Then starts laughing hysterically. “Oh my god, James said he loves me, this can’t be real, it is real, I can _date_ him-”

He still hasn’t really processed it. 

Angelica and Eliza exchange a very long look.

Finally, Angelica says, “Damn.”

“It’s about time,” Eliza offers. 

“I’m sorry, _what?”_ Angelica and Thomas chorus. Angelica continues, “You _knew_ that James likes-” She waves a hand at Thomas.

 _“What?”_ Thomas repeats.

Eliza looks slightly guilty. “I mean, it seemed pretty obvious? James looks at you the way you look at him, Thomas. I always see this kind of thing.”

Thomas just stares at her.

She grimaces. “I’m sorry! I just thought that I should respect his privacy, if he hadn’t told anyone he probably didn’t want people to know.”

Angelica pats her on the back. “It’s alright, Eliza.”

Thomas says, very slowly, “Okay.”

Okay. He’s calming down. Oh, gods, what was he thinking, James has never liked it when people talk too loudly or too idiotically, he should have been calm. 

“Thanks, Angelica,” Thomas decides. “I think I needed this.”

“You are very welcome, now, go find him,” she orders. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he salutes, and darts out of the room. 

He starts wandering around the campus, because he really has no idea where to start; his feet lead him back to his and _James’_ dorm room, and... Lafayette?

The French exchange student is rapping on Thomas’ door when Thomas taps him on the shoulder. Lafayette whirls on their heel. “Thomas! You have a lot of explaining to do, especially since your roommate will not answer the door and looks like shit because of _you-”_

Lafayette’s French accent thickens when they get angry. Seeing as Thomas can barely discern his words with how thick it is right now, he’s scared.

But _James._

“Look, I need to talk to James, so if you would move, I have the key,” Thomas hisses, trying to push past Lafayette. Lafayette, however, blocks his way, glowering at him. 

“No, Thomas. Explain why James shows up to my café, looking like he’s been through hell and back, says your name when I ask him what’s wrong, and proceeds to run out! Then I’ll let you in!”

Lafayette is gesturing angrily now. “Explain, Thomas. What have you _done?”_

“He said he was in love with me and then he _ran_ , Laf, please, I _love_ him-”

The door swings open behind Lafayette.

James looks back at Thomas, blue eyes glittering with tears.

“Gilbert, let him in,” he says.

Lafayette looks uncertainly between James and Thomas. “Mon ami, are you quite sure of this?”

James just nods. “I- I’ll be fine.” He stumbles over his words, eyes still fixed on Thomas.

With a quiet grumble, Lafayette moves away. Thomas shoots into the room, slams the door shut, and _hugs_ James.

They stumble backwards together. James lets out a small, whispered “oh” into Thomas’ chest. Somehow they find their way onto James’ bed, limbs tangled and weaved together.

“James,” Thomas breathes. “Oh my god. I’m in love with you. I have been in love with you for so long. Oh my god.”

James just moves closer. “Really- fuck, _Thomas-_ I love you.”

They’re lying on their backs, flat on the bed, facing the ceiling, still wound together. Thomas closes his fingers over James’ smaller hand.

“Oh,” James says quietly. “This is nice.”

“Yeah.”

“We should talk about this.”

Thomas pulls his best friend- crush- _boyfriend?_ \- closer to him. “Later. I just want to be here. With you.”

James rests his head on Thomas’ shoulder. “Okay.”

Neither of them have really processed it yet. It’s okay. They can work on that.

Thomas just wants to live in this moment, where everything is warm and loving and time doesn’t exist.

This is _enough._


	8. together (possibly my first serious chapter title)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thomas and james are outed to their family. but they're together. and they will stay together.

Prompt:

**Person A:** “How do you always look so fucking calm?”

**Person B:** “Hm? Oh, I’m not. People just can’t tell when I’m panicking, because I’m _always_ panicking.”

* * *

Thomas taps his fingers nervously on his lap once. Then twice. Then he keeps on doing it.

James, beside him, gently touches his shoulder. Thomas lets out a frustrated sigh and whips his head around to stare at his boyfriend.

James’ face is carefully neutral, the only sign of any feeling his dark eyes gleaming with some unfathomable emotion. His hands are folded neatly in his lap. There’s a fucking _smile_ on his lips. It’s like he doesn’t care about any of this- no, it’s like nothing happened at _all._

Thomas _knows_ James and there is no way he is _not_ freaking out over this.

“How do you always look so fucking calm?” Thomas bursts out. 

“Hm? Oh, I’m not. People just can’t tell when I’m panicking, because I’m _always_ panicking,” James replies absently, still smiling that funny, stilted smile. “When you panic for every day of your life, you learn to hide it.”

Thomas _knew_ about the panicking. He knew, of _course_ he knew, he’s been dating James for two years and he’d be a pretty shitty boyfriend if he _didn’t_ know. But James doesn’t _talk_ about it.

This must be bad. 

“...oh, James.”

“I panic about little things, you know? But I just... hide it. So people don’t worry.” James says softly. “So when it comes to big things, like this, I can control myself.” He lets out a long, shuddering breath. “But I’m _scared.”_

Thomas throws an arm over James’ shoulders, pulling him towards Thomas in a side-hug, and James curls into him like a pillow, pressing his face into Thomas’ neck. 

“We’re gonna be okay,” Thomas murmurs. “We’re gonna be okay, James.”

James laughs, almost tearfully, into Thomas’ shirt. “We just got outed to our homophobic as _fuck_ parents, Thomas, none of this is _okay!”_

“Let me pretend,” Thomas says, hugging him even closer.

James lets out a soft sigh, and tilts his head up to kiss Thomas gently on the lips. His kiss tastes like salty tears. Thomas doesn’t press further. He just... lets James cry quietly into his shirt and ignores the wet patch growing on it, ignores everything, just tries to comfort James the best he can, even though he wants to cry himself. 

They sit there, outside Washington’s office, for a long, long time. Their parents are _in_ that office, talking to Washington. And Thomas said that it was going to be okay, but really, he doesn’t believe that either. How _can_ it be okay?

It feels like an eternity before the door swings open and Washington steps out. James instinctively pulls away from Thomas, sitting up straight, sending one desperate look at his boyfriend. Thomas reaches for his hand, squeezing it once, before turning to look at Washington.

There is something like sympathy in the professor’s gaze as he studies them. “For what it’s worth, gentlemen, I’m sorry that this ever happened. If your parents don’t accept this... my home is open. If you need it.”

Thomas swallows. “Thank you, sir.”

“We’re grateful,” James whispers weakly.

Washington gives them a solemn nod. “Come on in, then.” 

Thomas and James stand up. For a second, Thomas considers letting go of James’ hand, because these are their parents- but then he feels the way James is gripping his fingers like his life depends on Thomas and he can’t.

He intertwines his fingers with James’ as they follow Washington into his office.

“We’ll stay together,” he murmurs, under his breath.

James smiles, slightly, but still a smile. “Together.”


	9. ...things happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s one thing to have your boyfriend tell you that he almost set your kitchen on fire. It’s another thing entirely to see him blush about and immediately have Things happen to you. And it’s yet another thing for him to see you blushing and immediately abandon all vestiges of embarrassment in exchange for being really, really hot. 
> 
> Or, in which James Madison is... very attracted to his boyfriend, Thomas Jefferson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is Filth by my standards someone please drown me in holy water

At exactly 6pm, James Madison slams his computer shut, lets out a long, deep sigh, and buries his head in his hands. 

God, people can be _so stupid._

Aaron looks up from his own computer, giving James a sympathetic look. “Bad day, huh?”

James groans, looking up. “Bad day with a capital _fucking_ B. Don’t talk about it. If I have to answer one more email from that fucking idiot Charles Lee, I will murder him, I don’t fucking care if I get arrested, he is _dead._ ”

“I’ll help,” Alexander calls, bouncing to his feet. “Wanna do it now? I know where his office is.”

“I really don’t think he’s _that_ bad,” Aaron says.

James and Alexander give him twin looks of disbelief. Alexander protests, “That’s because you have no opinions on anything, Aaron!”

“Fine, fine,” Aaron grumbles. “I see how it is.”

“Sure,” Alexander dismisses Aaron and turns to James. “So. A spot of murder before bed?”

...They probably should not be talking so casually about this. Meh. If James has to put up with Charles Lee, he _deserves_ to crack morbid jokes. But he can’t afford the criminal record, so- 

“No, thank you,” James declines. “I have a boyfriend to get home to. Perhaps we can do that later this week.”

There’s a delicate cough from the direction of the doorway. And James knows that cough. His attention has been demanded with that cough for sixteen years now.

“Thomas?” 

His boyfriend is, in fact, standing in the doorway, wearing a magenta hoodie, black jeans and white sneakers. He looks unfairly good for a Monday. Hell, he looks unfairly good for any day of the week. But James is the one who gets to fuck him at the end of the day, so it’s fine with him. 

He walks over to Thomas and sinks into his arms, laying his head on Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas holds him close, tenderly, _lovingly._

“Stop fucking being so in love!” Alexander calls. 

Aaron hums in support. James just laughs into Thomas’ shirt as Thomas flips them off.

James is so fucking in love with this man. Through idiocies and arguments and tough times, they’ve stuck together.

Which is why, when they finally separate, James looks at Thomas’ face and _immediately_ feels like laughing or crying or both. 

That _look_ on his face. Oh, god.

James _knows_ that look. 

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re about to tell me something I _really_ don’t want to hear?” He asks. 

Thomas looks embarrassed, flushing slightly. “...Experience?”

Alexander snickers in the background. Thomas flips him off again.

Aaron sighs. “Alexander. Don’t be an ass. Sweet Jesus, you are insufferable.”

“You weren’t saying that last night,” Alexander retorts, and Aaron shuts up, turning pink. James and Thomas watch interestedly from the door, hands intertwined. 

“You’re fucking Hamilton? I thought you had standards, Burr,” Thomas drawls.

Aaron turns an even darker shade of red, if that’s possible. “Can we go back to what you did?”

“You’re cute when you blush,” Alexander murmurs, “but yeah, I want to know.”

“Fuck you, Hamilton,” Thomas grumbles.

“That’s Aaron’s job,” Alexander retorts. Aaron buries his head in his hands.

James clears his throat quietly. “So. What did you do?”

Thomas looks down at him awkwardly, blushing darker. “Uh. Almost set the kitchen on fire? And I came to tell you because I know you would give me _that_ look if you found out and-” He cuts himself off. “I’m going to stop now.”

James stares at him incredulously. Alexander bursts into laughter, and Aaron seemingly recovers from his own embarrassment enough to laugh along as well.

“I’m sorry. Did you say you almost set our kitchen on fire?” James finally manages to force out. 

Thomas ducks his head even lower, and- _fuck_. James can sympathize with Alexander so fucking much it’s not even funny, Thomas is really, _really_ cute when he’s embarrassed and it’s doing Things, with a capital T, to James that _should not be happening in the office._

Thomas notices. Because of course he does. His lips curl up into a devilish smirk, blush disappearing. “Like what you see?”

...oh. 

_Oh_.

Thomas was cute before but now he’s _really fucking hot._

That was really quick but James really isn’t about to complain.

“Yeah,” James says, quietly, and since when were the tables turned like this? Some way or another Thomas is leaning over him and gazing at him like he’s the only thing that matters in the world and James wants to live in this moment.

“I can make it up to you,” Thomas whispers, almost conversationally, and raises an eyebrow, and then James is saying “I dare you” almost breathlessly, and Thomas is kissing him, long and hard and _filthy-_

And then Alexander is screaming at them, and Aaron is laughing his heart out, and Thomas is raking fingers through James’ hair even as he pulls away, and James is staring disappointedly at his boyfriend.

“You’d better finish what you started,” he says mildly.

Thomas laughs. “You know I will, darlin’.”

He’s whisking James away, and all of a sudden- it’s a Good day.

(”You’re still cleaning the kitchen,” James murmurs, cuddling closer to Thomas’ warm body.

“Anything for you, Jemmy,” Thomas says seriously, then proceeds to go ~~straight~~ gay back to sleep.)


	10. at least we know who's the top in that relationship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Alexander Hamilton is whipped. That’s it. That’s the fic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i’m sorry,,, burr/jefferson was supposed to be a joke,,, also i’m sorry in general for this fic,,, feel free to yell at me i really deserve it this time

Hamilton is an annoying _brat_ and Aaron thinks he is being very generous in not _killing_ him already, thank you very much. 

Beside him, Thomas looks like he’s contemplating smashing his coffee cup over the overly hyper little shit. Or maybe just strangling him then and there. Aaron would help him hide the body, completely honestly. 

Hamilton is perched on a chair next to James’ desk, talking away about something that none of them can follow, bar maybe James himself. He gets released early from work for once, and he comes _here._ Just fucking _great_. 

And James isn’t _listening_. He’s typing away at his computer like his annoying boyfriend isn’t sitting next to him when he really _shouldn’t_ be, frowning in concentration, and it’s like Hamilton isn’t there at all.

James Madison can really be a fucking dipshit sometimes. Such as right now. Because he’s not controlling Hamilton when he’s literally the _only_ one who can control Hamilton. 

Aaron smashes his keyboard particularly hard as Hamilton rambles on. Hamilton just smirks at him and continues on, and honestly, the sheer _audacity._

“Hamilton,” he growls, “shut your _fucking_ mouth before I shut it _for_ you.”

“You’re not the boss of me,” Hamilton sing-songs.

Thomas starts folding a paper airplane and tosses it at Hamilton’s head. The fucker dodges and it hits James, who looks mildly offended as he picks it off the floor and puts it on his desk. 

Thomas curses under his breath, but Aaron can still hear the soft, _extremely_ family-unfriendly words. “Shit, _sorry,_ Jemmy, now can you shut your boyfriend _up-”_

“Why would he listen to me?” James asks mildly, going back to typing. 

“Because he’s _whipped,_ ” Aaron points out, voice biting.

Hamilton swells with indignation, hopping off his chair and jabbing an accusing finger in Aaron’s direction. “Okay, first of all, that is so rude, like who the hell just goes ‘you’re whipped’ to someone? What the _fuck,_ man? Second of all, I am _not_ whipped-”

“My God, Hamilton, can you not stop talking for one fucking second?” Thomas hisses, reaching out for his coffee cup dangerously. Aaron clamps a hand over his wrist and gives Hamilton a hard glare.

Hamilton doesn’t take the hint. 

“And you say _I’m_ whipped,” he chirps cheerfully. “Might want to get that case of hypocrisy checked out, Jefferson!”

“We’re not fucking dating, Hamilton, you are absolutely fucking _intolerable,”_ Thomas says angrily, ripping his hand free of Aaron’s grasp. Aaron flushes, he _knows_ he does, why is he blushing, he _isn’t_ dating Thomas. 

Hamilton just laughs. “Behold! All my fucks!” He sweeps his hands in front of him. “Oh wait. There’s nothing here. You know why, Jefferson? Because _I don’t care._ ”

Thomas actually tries to get up at that; only a kick in the shin from Aaron forces him to sit back down. And Hamilton is still there, still smirking, still talking, and Aaron wants to break his nose so badly.

James finally breaks in. “Alexander.”

Hamilton isn’t swayed, and Aaron starts to consider letting Thomas jump him. “James. Listen to me. _Please?_ ”

“I have half a dozen emails to write, Alexander, I really don’t need this right now,” James insists, and he looks harried, and Hamilton actually shuts up for a few seconds at that. James smiles, ever so slightly, though it’s tainted with exhaustion. “Thank you.”

Aaron breathes a sigh of relief and turns back to his computer. Which was an idiotic move, as it turns out.

Thomas is _still_ pissed off.

There is _venom_ in his voice as he practically spits, “Why don’t you go and fuck yourself, Hamilton-”

“I have a boyfriend to do that for me,” Hamilton points out tauntingly. “Unlike _you-”_

James looks up sharply as Aaron lifts his own head and Thomas narrows his eyes dangerously. “Alexander. _Stop_ it.”

Hamilton opens his mouth and Aaron gets ready to restrain Thomas again. 

But then James says _“Alexander,”_ something in his tone different this time. It’s a warning and it’s a bit of a plead and it’s _something,_ and Hamilton well and truly shuts up, eyes widening and biting his lip and a tinge of red showing itself on his cheeks.

Thomas snickers, and Hamilton shoots him a glare, but James says something under his breath and Hamilton does nothing.

Aaron goes back to his work. Again. This time he isn’t interrupted. He manages to concentrate for the twenty minutes, and before he can even stand up at the end of it James is pulling Hamilton away somewhere.

“Maybe he’s going to yell at Hamilton for us,” Thomas says gleefully.

“That would be nice,” Aaron says, then ventures, “When he was talking about you not having a boyfriend-?”

 _Why?_ Why was Thomas so confrontational? He knows how to keep his cool. Even with Hamilton, most of the time.

Thomas is someone Aaron cares about. As loath as he is to admit human emotion sometimes, Thomas... is different.

Thomas gives him a sideways look. “Why do you want to know?”

Aaron shrugs. He doesn’t have an answer for that.

Thomas tells him, anyway. “I like someone. Oh, _god,_ why did I just say that?”

“I won’t judge,” Aaron reminds him, and distantly he’s aware of something inside him twitching uncomfortably, but he ignores it in favor of Thomas’ smile. Honestly. Thomas has a lot more depth than Hamilton gives him credit for.

There is a strangely wistful look on Thomas’ face. “You should.”

Fuck it all, Aaron decides, and looks Thomas in the eye, and says, “I like you, I’m really not in the position to judge.”

_“Oh.”_

Thomas’ lips are on his in the next second, tangling and moving and Aaron is surprised but he isn’t complaining and _wow.  
_

He’s kissing Thomas Jefferson _._

This is nice _.  
_

“Okay,” he gasps, as Thomas pulls away from him, “wow-”

“I am taking you out on a _date,”_ Thomas declares flamboyantly, and that just ruins the mood but also it’s more _them_.

“Sure,” Aaron agrees, because why the hell not. He grabs his computer and within three minutes he’s shoulder to shoulder with Thomas.

They head out together. 

And they stumble across James with his fucking mouth on Hamilton’s neck, and Hamilton pressed up against a wall; Thomas practically slaps a hand over Aaron’s eyes as Aaron presses them shut. 

James doesn’t even pause when he hears them, from the sounds Hamilton is making. 

“We are going the other way now,” Thomas says, and Aaron makes a noise of disgust deep in his throat. 

They make their escape quickly, getting to the exit of their office building before Thomas stops, tugging on Aaron’s arm.

“What the fuck was that,” Aaron mutters. 

“My God, if I could scour that from my memory I would, even though it’s such good fucking blackmail,” Thomas groans. 

"Well, at least we know who's the top in that relationship,” Aaron offers.

"Since when is it Jemmy, though?" Thomas grumbles.

“Hamilton is just the ultimate bottom,” Aaron dismisses sagely.

"...Speaking from personal experience, Aaron?"

“Fuck you, Jefferson."

“Okay,” Thomas says, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“I walked right into that, didn’t I?”

Thomas cuts him off. With his mouth. But hey. That’s not so bad.


End file.
